


Nazis Don't Deserve Knees

by tragicbeasts



Series: The Kreisau Initiative [2]
Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Wolfenstein (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anal Sex, Blood and Gore, F/F, F/M, Human Experimentation, M/M, Nazis, Oral Sex, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 16:54:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26352244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tragicbeasts/pseuds/tragicbeasts
Summary: Walker and Barnes find themselves in a world where Hydra won the war. Now, they have to find their way home while kicking Nazi ass with unexpected allies.
Relationships: Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Original Male Character(s), Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Steve Rogers & Sam Wilson
Series: The Kreisau Initiative [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1912006
Comments: 3
Kudos: 7





	1. In Absentia

A hush descended upon the area, the only sound to break the shocked silence was that of distant sirens, growing nearer. The Avengers stared at the portal device, now inactivated, lights and humming ceased with that pull of the wire. There was no flicker of movement, no indication of activity or energy of any kind. 

And there certainly wasn’t any relieved laugh from Barnes at having averted disaster, no pleased nod from Walker. They were gone, vanished into thin air. 

“They got sucked in,” Wanda whispered, face ashen. Natasha had to count to control her breathing while Steve made no such effort, escalating rapidly into hyperventilation as he dropped to his knees. Sam rushed to his side while he gasped for air, staring glassy eyed at the spot where the two men had been standing just a moment ago. Their panic built as the full implications of this event hit them with full force. 

“Are they….” Clint couldn’t finish the sentence. Steve shook his head to ward off the suggestion.

“They were transported,” Tony said, slowly approaching the portal device. “Wherever those soldiers were from is where Barnes and Walker are now.” He prodded the crystal with a tentative finger. “I’m sure of it.” 

The team looked at the corpses littering the field, black boots shined enough to reflect sunlight and swastikas standing out starkly on their arms. 

“Nazis,” Clint said, amazement in his voice.

“From the future,” Natasha added, taking note of the weapons and gear. It wasn’t like anything she’d ever seen.

“Not again,” Steve wailed, starting to crumble against Sam, who did his best to hold the both of them upright. “He already fought….he already fought and lost. What if he…..?” Steve trailed off, breath coming in shallow bursts. 

“They’ll be okay,” Sam assured, wide eyes betraying his doubt. 

Tony rapped on the side of the device with metal knuckles. The reverberations revealed no secrets. 

“We’ll take it back,” he said, decidedly. “I’ll fix it, figure it out, and zap them back here.”

Steve stared at him as a lifeline. “You can do that?”

“Of course I can!” Tony exclaimed, spreading his arms. “I’m Tony Stark!” He turned to look at the device. “Also, I’m pretty sure it’s my fault this works in the first place, so if I could get it working once, I can do it again.” He circled the device like a wolf around a hedgehog, trying to figure out how to best get inside. Ideas forming, he gave a decisive nod.

“All I need is time.”

*******  
Walker was lying on some sort of raft, or wreckage, he couldn’t tell what in the dim light. Barnes was beside him, weight tilting the wood and forcing Walker to keep his distance for fear of flipping the whole thing. Barnes sat up, head on a swivel, taking in their new surroundings. They saw more wreckage floating around them, and a boat of some kind lashed to a dock. The dock, loaded with crates and miscellaneous goods, appeared empty.

With a wordless agreement, they slid off their makeshift barge and swam to the lowest platform, hauling themselves onto the dock with matching grunts. Pausing for a moment to dump the water from their boots, they surveyed the scene, noting the four-armed sigils stamped on all the boxes, as well as the faint smell of ash. Looking past the docks, towards the shore, they saw little in the pitch black of the night. A few lamps glowed along the shoreline, casting what little they could see in a strange yellow hue. That little of what they could see, though, was grim.

Rubble made up most of the view, shattered concrete and twisted cables, crushed cars and split sidewalks. It looked like a war zone, or it had been some time ago, and Walker’s stomach clenched in fear. 

“Babe…” Barnes started, then left open, unable to figure out an appropriate end to describe the overwhelming feeling of wrong that filled his bones.

“I know,” Walker reassured, reaching out to lace their fingers together. The water had been cold and Barnes’ hand was clammy, so Walker warmed them between his, focusing on that small task to block out the thoughts racing through his mind. Barnes watched him with the same goal in mind, and they sat facing each other, saying nothing. 

“Where do you think we are?” Barnes asked tentatively, several minutes later. Walker shook his head.

“No fucking clue.” He remembered seeing the wire and grabbing it, remembered tugging, but the rest was blank until he awoke in the water.

“Were those really Nazis?” Barnes questioned, staring at the steps as he relived the memory of the men pouring through the portal. 

“If it looks like a Nazi and walks like a Nazi…” Walker said, shrugging. 

“Fuck,” was the only appropriate response.


	2. Home Sweet Home?

“I know where we are,” Barnes said, voice tight and even. 

Standing, Walker surveyed the scene before them. He took in the boxes strewn about, the notable lack of visibly functional boats, and the cold black waves lapping at the dock supports.

“Look at the city,” Barnes instructed, and Walker did. Buildings crumbling to rubble; roads blocked by cement chunks and vacant cars; the moonlight reflecting dully off of twisted lamp posts……not twisted: melted. 

“What the hell?” Walker said, and Barnes got to his feet.

“Look at the city as a whole,” Barnes tried again, fingernails digging into the flesh of his palm. The metal hand was carefully splayed against his thigh. 

Walker blinked and zoomed out in his vision, taking in the view. It was familiar. 

“Really?” Walker whispered, staring. Barnes let loose a mournful sigh.

“I know this city like the back of my hand,” he said. “I spent more than one night right here fooling around with one sailor or another. I know that street up there. Got into a fight in one of the alleyways. Lost, but it was 5 against 1 and that was back before....”

Walker felt his knees go loose before he locked them to keep from falling over. “What do you think happened?”

“I have no idea,” Barnes said, shaking his head with a grim expression on his face. “But I do know that we’re not going to find out by standing around here.”

*******

They explored, creeping through ruins and sifting through the debris. They went one street at a time, starting with the familiar and straying deeper into the wasteland. Most of what they found was garbage: torn clothing, rusted cans, moldy books, and corpses, in various stages of decay. But through their investigation, a story emerged in pieces, one that sent chills through their tired bodies. 

Military recruitment flyers, in English, dated January of 1948. 

Desiccated bodies, arms outstretched for one another, lacking even a single strand of hair and eyes eggshell white.

Empty ration boxes, strewn about a cobwebbed kitchen, labels in German, expiration year 1950.

“You lost,” Walker whispered, hands aching to hold Barnes closer. The man turned and looked at him, then blinked, before his eyes went wide. 

“Hydra won,” Barnes said, voice emotionless, staring at a dead woman leaned against the door frame. Her hands were folded neatly in her lap. 

“We’re in a different universe, an alternate,” Walker said, forgoing concern of stating the obvious. “ _ What _ happened here?” 

“Maybe  _ we _ didn’t,” Barnes said, mind spinning. “What if Steve and the rest of the Howling Commandos didn’t exist here? Steve never stopped the plane, the bomb went off….”

“And Germany won the war,” Walker finished, horror greying his vision. “My mother was never born.” 

Barnes looked at him. “Maybe she was…” Walker shook his head.

“If Germany won, my grandparents died in the camps.” Barnes turned a little green and reached out for him, hoping touch could dispel some of the sick feeling that filled the air. Walker took his hand and stepped into him, resting his head on Barnes’ collarbone. They held each other for a time, breathing in and out in sync, nerves slowly steadying. 

“At least I can kill Nazis now,” Walker pointed out, smiling into Barnes’ chest. Barnes chuckled, voice still tight. 

“It’s a lot of fun,” he said. “I recommend it.”

And so they moved on.

*****

“Um,” Barnes said, concerned.

“What?” Walker asked, and turned to see Barnes staring at one of the buildings. In the early morning light, Walker could just make out a line that delineated the structure into two portions. The lower portion was a lighter, normal concrete color. The upper portion, however, appeared...scorched. He pivoted to look at the other buildings and saw they all had the marks, all on the sides facing the center of the city.

The melted lamp posts. 

“Oh my God,” Walker said, and Barnes passed a tired hand over his face. “It  _ was  _ nuclear.” Walker said. Barnes grimaced.

“Yes.”

Walker looked down at his hands, his arms, all the bare skin on his body. His teeth started to hurt, and he wondered if radiation sickness could set in that fast. They had only been here a few hours, but if this was a recent blast, the radiation levels could still be high enough to cook every strand of his DNA until it unwound into spaghetti. A thought occurred to him.

“Does it even affect you?” Walker demanded, then softened his tone. “Sorry. I just mean, would the supersoldier serum protect you from the radiation effects?”

Barnes didn't need to answer out loud. His face gave away his strong desire to say no, but knowledge that the answer was yes.

“I’m not going on,” Barnes said suddenly, reaching out and grabbing Walker’s hand. “If you get sick and….” Barnes choked on the thought of it. “I can’t do this alone.”

“You fucking bet you will,” Walker said, tone heated. “You will find a way back home and you’ll eat a hot meal, take a warm shower, and sleep. You will get up each day and do what you need to to get through it. Learn how to cook or dance. Adopt a kitten and name it after me. Whatever helps.” Walker released Barnes’ hand to cradle his face. “You. Will. Survive.” He brushed away a stray tear. “Whether you want to or not.”

*******

Walker pushed all thoughts of nausea and leukemia from his mind, instead focusing on their most pressing concerns: food and shelter. Dragging Barnes behind him, he brought them to the top of the building they were in, climbing out the window to get onto the roof. Holding onto the chimney, then surveyed the city, looking for any signs of life. It took a minute, but they found it: a thin trail of smoke from a neighborhood a few blocks from their current location. Wordlessly, they took off, skirting the detritus of shattered storefronts and the remnants of apartment housing, spending the next hour or so making their way towards the beacon of hope. 

The sun had begun to rise by the time they reached the first barricade, which blocked most of the road from vehicles, but not them. They circumvented the concrete barriers and barbed wire and kept moving, heading towards the visibly lived-in part of the street, as indicated by the sweep marks on the ground and the general sense of organization. Walker and Barnes approached carefully, hands loose and away from their hips. They stepped closer and closer until there was a whistle that cut through the early morning air, high pitched and threatening. Both men froze, hands automatically going into the air in surrender. There was no appearance of anyone yet, but Walker could feel the crosshairs on his forehead. Without thinking, he shifted to cover Barnes, and the whistle came again. He halted, back to Barnes’ chest, and raised a defiant chin.

“We come as friends,” he yelled, voice disrupting the dawn. There was no response. He hesitated, before taking a cautious step forwards, then another. He reached a hand back for Barnes, who took it and followed. They walked towards what appeared to be the entrance - an old bar with the door slightly askew, resting on rusted hinges. Two barricades provided defensive positions in front, and Walker could see a makeshift sniper’s nest on a balcony a few stories up. There were multiple of those, he realized, pausing to scan upwards.  _ Smart. _

They strode hand in hand until the warning whistle sounded again, then waited. Five minutes passed before the bar door creaked open, just enough for someone to peer out of without being seen themselves. Apparently, they were judged safe, because the door swung open further, revealing an elderly man clutching a shotgun. They made no sudden movements until he gestured them closer. Walker kept his free hand up and Barnes did the same as they approached the man, whose posture was one of tired defiance. 

“My name is Walker,” Walker loudly once in earshot. “This is Barnes. We come in peace.”

“There is no such thing as peace, son,” the man said, lowering the gun but keeping a firm grip on it. “Not anymore.”

“Is there still...fighting?” Barnes asked, eyeing the bullet holes in the side of the building. The man snorted.

“Every day is a fight, and life is a battle, against hunger, cold, sickness, tyranny….” he trailed off, the lines in his face deepening. “But you should know that,” he said, expression growing suspicious. 

Walker gripped Barnes’ hand harder. “Yes, we do. We meant locally. We’re...new to the area,” he said, pushing down the flash of nausea that came with remembering this city as it had been, mere hours ago for them. 

“Foreigners,” the man said flatly, looking them over. Deciding that Walker’s accent was proof enough, he held the door open for them and motioned for them to come inside. They obliged, stepping past him into the building. It smelled of must and astringent, and the chairs and tables in the original establishment had been moved against the windows facing the street. The man secured the door behind them, then led them to the second floor, where they met a small, fearful group. A woman, holding a toddler, watched warily from the corner while two young men clutching clubs hovered near the doorway as they walked in the room. An older child held a threadbare stuffed animal of an unidentifiable species, and two other women sat on a bare bed frame.

The man introduced them as the “new people” and informed the group they were “not from around here”. The adults eyed them askance while the child cared little, continuing his play as soon as the excitement of introductions to the strangers was over.

“This is Walker,” Barnes said, then pointed to himself. “I’m Barnes. We’ve traveled from far away and are trying to figure out what’s going on here in New York.” 

One of the women scoffed, cocking her head to the side. “Why on Earth would you choose to travel  _ here _ ?” Her tone tainted with distrust. “I’m Gina, by the way.”

“That’s a good question, Gina,” Walker started, but the elderly man waved his hand. 

“They’re homosexuals, Gina,” he said, then paused and added, “I’m Lee.”

It’s like Lee had pricked the tension balloon with a pin. Everyone relaxed, and their eyes softened. Walker had no idea how to react to that and he could tell the sudden change set Barnes’ teeth on edge.

“You escaped the camps?” the woman named Liz inquired, face sympathetic.

Walker shook his head. “We’re running from them,” he said, expression serious. The group nodded, the woman next to Liz reaching out to intertwine their fingers. “I’m Cynthia,” she whispered, and Walker inclined his head in greeting. The boy was Caleb, the toddler was Ren, and the young men, less aggressive in their posture now, were Lamar and Zach. 

“We came from New Orleans,” Liz said. “New York is the only city where people like us can hide, and it’s hard even here.”

Walker’s stomach was sour as the conversation continued. He didn’t want to know what happened in New Orleans. The group, now open, took the opportunity presented by newcomers to share their stories and knowledge. Walker and Barnes learned about the raids, the awful machinery that mimicked dogs and could crush bone between their steel teeth, the struggle to find food, the constant worry about getting sick or injured and not having enough medical supplies, and the growing fear of winter. 

“We do our best to prepare and keep ourselves going until spring,” Lamar said, “but every year….”

“...we lose at least one of us,” Cynthia finished for him, and their expressions all darkened. 

“Is there anyone else in the city?” Walker asked. Zach and Lamar mirrored each other's scowls.

“Oh, you’ll meet them soon enough,” Liz said darkly. 

Walker had a feeling they’d lucked out with their choice of a first human encounter in the city. 

Changing the subject, Walker asked, “Is there anything we can help with?”

Lee’s face lit up and he clapped Walker on the shoulder.

“I’m glad you asked!”

*******

Even after hours of heavy lifting up and down stairs, Walker couldn’t rest, and neither could Barnes, judging by the slightly erratic breathing beside him. It was too much, all they had learned, on top of the expectation of falling asleep in a  _ different fucking universe.  _ It was a bad dream, a moment out of the Twilight Zone, a joke, a drug induced trip, or an elaborate virtual reality experiment. They would awake in the Tower, and either laugh at the experience or yell at Tony for his penchant for hyperrealism at the wrong times. But this certainly couldn’t be real. Never mind that they had dealt with plenty of weird things in both their lifetimes. For Christ’s sake, the man in his bed was over 90 years old. There was something about this, though, maybe the scale of it, that rocked Walker to his core and made the skeptic in his brain scream from the rooftops that this was a scam. 

But taking what he saw with his own eyes at face value meant accepting two horrible ideas: they were stranded in an alternate New York City that had been bombed into oblivion in the recent past and they may never make it home. Neither was an easy pill to swallow, especially when just yesterday, Barnes and him had gone out shopping in the city. Experiencing this version was like taking a walk through a cemetery on a beautiful day, enjoying the sun and breeze, when you come across the grave of a friend or family member you just saw no more than a few hours ago. Suddenly, the clouds roll in and the wind picks up, anchoring a chill in your bones that you can’t shake, no matter how hard you shiver. You stare at the headstone and you can’t comprehend most of the text through the haze of horror. All you can read is their name, chiseled so definitively into the stone. You feel the urge to call them, text them, anything to confirm that this is a mistake, but all you get is a voicemail, an unanswered “How are you?”. They’re dead, and you don’t even remember burying them. 

Walker wondered if Barnes would have to bury him, and took solace in the fact that Lee was still alive. If a man that old could survive in this world, maybe he could too. Finding tentative hope in the thought of not dying of radiation sickness a universe away from home, he used the burst of hope to soothe his mind and lull himself into a restless sleep.


	3. Mourn the Living

Walking through the halls of the Tower, from the cafeteria all the way to the Avenger’s common floor, you almost needed a machete to cut through the tension. Sam nodded solemnly at the SHIELD agents who gave him sympathetic glances, clamping down the lid over his own feelings to keep from having a truly epic public meltdown. He never realized how much he had gotten accustomed to their fearless leader’s constant presence, trailed by a happier Barnes that Sam had ever seen. 

_ Not anymore _ , came the thought, and he buried it. Honestly he hoped Barnes was pissed as Hell right now, because at least then he’d be alive. Steve and him hadn’t been able to even mention that possibility to each other, instead focusing on their productive distractions. Right now, Steve was helping Tony in his lab, contributing his knowledge of Hydra’s technology to the effort to the effort to fix the portal. It was the only thing keeping him together.

The scene following its closing had been beyond chaotic, once the dust settled and the shock wore off enough to move. The news trucks were already there, kept at a distance by the NYPD, but ravenous all the same. They had all hurried to the portal, examining the broken wire and crystal, which had shattered upon the severing of the power source. They weren't even entirely sure what the power source was, as it wasn’t visibly hooked up to any sort of battery-like thing they could see. That’s when the panic had begun to set in, when the team realized Walker and Barnes might well and truly be gone. Steve had lost all composure, and only the quick circling by the team had kept him from being on the 6 o’clock news. 

Wanda had cried silently from the second the portal closed to the time they all staggered to bed that night, as drunk as possible and feeling like they’d just returned from a funeral. The mood hadn’t lifted in the three days since, with everyone instead devoting every waking moment to their rescue operation. Clint and Natasha were in Eastern Europe, chasing leads on Hydra experiments. Wand was working to try and repair the crystal using her powers. Sam...he was walking with purpose from lunch to the gym, trying not to think about anything at all. He was the useless one of this adventure. Tony had even called in Bruce Banner from whatever corner of the globe he had tucked himself away in, and he was flying in to put his brain together with Tony. Others had been called in as well: an astrophysicist, her friends, and a Norse god. There was no room for Sam to help even now, but once they all moved in…

“Where are they going to stay?” Sam had asked at that meeting, taking a tally of the floors. There had been a long, awkward silence before Tony said, “The only available space is…”

“Bucky’s floor,” Steve finished, voice empty. His fingers curled around the edge of the table. They all wordlessly agreed it made sense, but that they’d pretend it wasn’t happening. When they had all stood up to disperse, Sam had noticed finger grooves in the wood where Steve had sat, fingerprints and all. 

Sam wasn’t a scientist, a genius, a spy, or a supersoldier. He wasn’t useful, helpful, or any kind of asset at the moment. All he could do was work out at the gym, shower, eat lunch, and stare at the wall until he went to the gym again. Use-less. Use-less. Use-less. He beat it into the punching bag, Walker’s look of grim determination seared into his eyelids, the flash of fear on Barnes’ face bringing tears to his eyes that rolled down his cheeks as his fists beat a violent rhythm. Help-less. Help-less. Help-less.

There was nothing he could do.

*******   
  


Steve had no clue what this device did or how it did it. He had seen his fair share of Hydra technology, both during the war and during their missions, but this defied his explanation. They had surmised that the wire Walker had pulled was connected to the power source, but so far they’d been unable to get the black box in question open. It taunted them from the lab bench, compact, seamless, and made of the second most durable metal Tony had ever measured. Steve had even tried pulling it apart at one point, against Tony’s advice, but to no avail.

“Sorry, Cap,” Tony had said. “We’ll figure it out somehow.”

Steve had wanted to snap at him, to vent some of that frustration driving him mad. But Tony was doing the best he could, and Steve couldn’t fault him for that.

“Yeah,” he replied instead, the memory of Walker and Bucky vanishing in a flash of light replacing in his mind. That happened every few minutes, and by now he knew the number of eyelets on Walker’s boots and how many joins were in Bucky’s left arm. He felt like he was losing his sanity.

So he worked, reading through all the records referencing Hydra equipment collected by SHIELD’s precursor, as well as mission debriefings and lab reports of Hydra’s more modern technology. He read and sifted and jotted down notes, chewing on his lip and tapping his pen against his thigh when it was idle. Bucky would have yelled at him for the chewing, a lifelong bad habit. Bucky would’ve thrown him a piece of gum or settled for smacking the back of his head. 

But Bucky was gone.

*******

Wanda sat and stared at the shards of crystal in the Tupperware, seeming just like a normal piece of rose quartz if you smashed it with a hammer. But it was far more important than that. It was a channel, somehow, and the energy it channeled had stolen her friends, may they rest in peace. She humored Steve and the others, spending hours examining the crystal for a way to repair it, or at least acquire its secrets, but she felt a loss so powerful that she couldn’t dare hope they had survived the transport. Even if they had, how long would they last in that alien world? They knew next to nothing about it, besides its propensity for Nazis, which implied a parallel Earth, but guaranteed nothing. In her heart of hearts, she thought they were dead. She would never look into the blue of Barnes’ eyes or the gold-flecked brown of Walker’s ever again. Would never soothe her soul by proximity to the warmth of their love. She had cared about them, so they were taken from her.

There was no poetry to life for her, only eulogy.

*******

Barnes couldn’t sleep. He held Walker tight and counted his breaths, palm resting over his heart to keep track of his pulse. There was nothing disrupting about the night, no talking in the other room or the sound of traffic. If anything, it was too quiet. There should be cars, arguments, the clanging of pots and pans, the yowling of cats, and the low bass of music. This city was dead, and you could hear it in the silence, smell it in the dank air, the ocean mixed with concrete dust. There was something profoundly disturbing about laying down in the ruins of a bar in a decimated version of your birthplace, after having found out your country surrendered to end the war you died in. 

Barnes envied Walker’s ability to sleep anywhere at any time. Barnes snuggled closer, breathing in the scent of him, which was marred by their dip in the bay, but it still lowered his blood pressure and calmed his nerves enough to slip into a light rest.


	4. Fallout

They were arranged in a rough circle, plates balanced on laps, eating dinner, when Walker inquired, “Where does this food come from?” Lee paused, for halfway to his mouth, then lowered it. 

“We find it in the ruins,” he said, “and some is..provided.”

“Provided?” Barnes repeated, and the group glanced at each other.

“They don’t like us being here,” Zach said. “We are beyond their control and they can’t stand that. So they try to lure us out.”

“They leave food and wait,” Liz said. Cynthia winced and rubbed a scar along her forearm. “When people come, they are arrested and whisked away, never to be seen again.”

“If everyone’s arrested, how do you have any?” Walker asked, and Lamar grinned.

“All of us groups worked out a system called ‘they can’t catch us all’. Guess how it goes.”

“Does it work?” Barnes asked, and Zach shrugged.

“Well enough. It’s very Darwinist, survival of the fittest and all,” he said. Cynthia shook her head.

“It’s survival of the luckiest,” she corrected, getting a ‘hm’ of agreement all around.

“Do you ever go for the Nazis first?” Barnes queried, and received several amused and baffled looks.

“Yeah, us and our sticks against their rifles and body armor,” Lamar said sarcastically.

“Plus the dogs,” Liz added, and Gina shivered. Ren, balanced on one of her knees, looked up at her with concern.

“Besides,” Lee said, “If we start attacking, they stop bringing food.” There was a long, quiet pause.  


“Shit,” Barnes said. No one disagreed.

*******

When they found out Ren was deaf, Barnes made it a personal mission of his to teach the toddler sign language. When Walker asked, Barnes said he had no idea when he learned it, just that you curl your fingers in this way to make the letter “W”. 

Gina watched, entranced, fingers moving in time with Barnes’ as she learned how to speak to her son with more than smiles and lip motions. While Barnes played teacher, Walker helped Lee and the other men with their repairs and crude reinforcements of the building. The group had only been there a few weeks, Walker found out, having moved from a now flooded part of the city. Permanent refugees. They boarded up windows with scavenged nails and crude mallets, set up a moveable barricade for the front door that braced against the bar itself to make a tricky obstacle. Walker showed them some traps to set, but warned against triggering them themselves. He also cleaned, hauling old boxes and furniture out into the courtyard, giving them more room to spread out and breathe. Once this work was finished, Walker started sweeping, cleaning mounds of dust and small debris from the floor with a straw broom. Barnes joined him, having exhausted both the child and his mother for the time being.

They assisted where they could, earning the food that was put before them, but when that began to run low, they knew they’d have to do more.

“It’s tomorrow,” Lee said, as they all stared at the remnants of their meager rations as if to absorb each remaining speck of food with their eyes.

“Let us help,” Walker said quietly, and Zach glanced at Lamar.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have more hands,” he said, and Lamar agreed. 

Walker had felt Barnes tense at his offer, and only sensed the tension grow. 

“4 am, sharp,” Lamar said, and Walker gave him a sardonic thumbs up before rising and heading to the small annex Barnes and him shared. Walker had expected at least a side glance for their sleeping arrangement, but had later realized, upon observation, that Zach and Lamar headed off together in the night as well. 

“Black and gay in Nazi America,” Walker murmured, nostrils flaring as he tilted his head in amazement. “Wonder how he’s survived this long.”

“You’re no White Walker either,” Barnes said, with a grin that only grew when Walker gave him a blank look. Walker wanted to air his doubts about his own survival, wanted to share the fear that ran through every molecule of his Romani DNA. But Barnes was smiling for the first time since they’d been sucked into that portal and Walker couldn’t break that for anything. So he snorted and shook his head, his own lips curling upwards as he took the opportunity to stare at Barnes. A beautiful man, regardless of the dust and grime, stronger than Walker in so many ways and too humble to ever admit that. A man thrown into his worst nightmare, but still smiling, still helping people. A work of art, inside and out, and Walker secretly thanked the woman who had held the paintbrush. 

“What?” Barnes said, crossing his arms over his knee in a self conscious motion. Walker reached out and traced one of his veins from elbow to hand. 

“I love you,” he said, not making eye contact. Afraid to, even. They hadn’t said those words yet, no matter how many times those syllables were pressed from one flesh to the other or whispered alongside a sweet gesture. Both men were too scarred by the world to open up that easily, and there was a chance that Barnes didn’t….

“Don’t you dare think that,” Barnes said, hand reaching for Walker and pulling him into an awkward embrace. Barnes buried his face in Walker’s hair and said, “Of course I love you too.”

Walker slept soundly that night.

*******

Walker imagined this was how athletes felt lining up at the start, toes just behind the paint and body poised for motion. They crouched behind the burnt shell of a car and watched the empty intersection. They heard no noise but felt the presence of the other groups lurking in the ruins, waiting for  _ them _ to arrive. Desperation can inspire a powerful patience, and Walker felt a sense of calm settle over him. The nerves came later, when the drones illuminated the street, bathing the rubble in a blinding light that kept the people at bay. 

_ Cockroaches in the kitchen _ , Walker thought.

The drones deposited several crates in the intersection before retreating and returning the area to its early morning gloom. Walker waited for Lamar’s signal before bursting out from behind the car, Barnes in his wake. They were joined by a handful of other brave souls who scrambled through the rubble towards the crates. His fingers had just brushed the closest one when the first shot rang out. The sound echoed off the buildings as a man stumbled, then screamed, the rubber bullet having split his eye and evicted it from the socket. Walker moved faster, helping Barnes and Lamar raid the contents of the crate they pried open. Dodging the projectiles, Barnes managed to snatch up an entire flat of canned goods. Walker shoved him towards the car to get out before someone noticed the haul. Loathe to leave him, but understanding why and taking the order as it was, Barnes hurried back. He barely made it to the car before the shooting intensified. Bullets whizzed by Walker’s head as he grabbed whatever he could. Turning back to the car, he started to run when two bolts of lightning locked both hamstrings, pain radiating out from where the rubber bullets hit. He fell to his knees with a gasp, arms going loose and spilling the cans on the street. He saw Barnes calling his name, but his legs wouldn’t work. He saw Barnes start to move towards him, then froze, face rigid in horror as a hand descended upon Walker’s shoulder and restraints were fastened around his wrists. His attempts to fight off the men only earned him a rifle stock to the face and the darkness that followed.

*******

Barnes watched him crumple to the ground, forehead split open, and fought the powerful urge to vomit. Both Lamar and Zach had to hold him in place while the Nazis dragged Walker’s limp body across the asphalt. 

_ I love you. _ He heard it in Walker’s vulnerable voice and almost wailed aloud.

“They won’t kill him,” Zach said through clenched teeth. “Not yet.”

“Is that worse,” Barnes said, words coming out too flat to be a question. The surreal lighting of the predawn was not helping his feelings of unreality. 

“I’m sorry,” was all Zach could say in return.


	5. Separation Anxiety

Tony was stuck. Wanda had yet to be able to put the crystal back together, and his successful (he thought) rewiring of the device had done nothing to yield more information about its function. He had tried every scan he had machines for, and even invented a new one to test for dark matter, but came up with the most boring, basic schematics every time. Just a box with just a smaller core with just a jumble of wires connecting everything together, with various components holding it all in place. Nothing revolutionary, and nothing revelatory.

He simply had no clue.

*******

Wanda gave up. She shouldn’t, but she had to, or risk slipping into insanity. As it was, she was already seeing the shards of the crystals in her dreams. Except, in her dreams, the shards came together, she gave the crystal to Tony, and they got their boys back, safe and sound. 

Those were nice dreams.

*******

“Steve, just remember, they’re together,” Sam said, cradling Steve’s damp face in his hands. “They’ll be okay.”

*******

He woke up alone. The first sensation he registered was a steady drip from above, but not water, he didn’t think, eyes still closed. It was warm.

Opening his eyes was a task. He only managed vision in one, the other crusted over with blood so thoroughly it had glued itself shut. He could see the dark concrete below him, could see the stains left behind by either an overzealous artist or a true sadist. Walker guessed the latter. This was confirmed when the dripping continued, and now curious, he looked up at the skinned corpse hanging above him, skewered on hooks like meat. He didn’t scream, wasn’t sure if he remembered how. It just hung there -  _ they  _ just hung there - suspended by their shoulders, spinning slowly counterclockwise on the chain. Eventually it would hit a point where it would reverse directions, rotating clockwise, and that took about 27 seconds, by his dazed count. 

He was still transfixed by his poor predecessor when the door slammed against the wall, hinges screeching. Two pairs of shiny boots strode towards him and he rolled on instinct, moving into a crouch with his hands in a blocking position. 

“A fighter,” one of the men said, accent thick and distinctly German. The other man had never smiled in his entire life, never once cracked a grin at a joke or a child. There was no humor in him, that room taken up by something darker, and in his eyes, Walker saw his death. 

“You are an anomaly,” said the first man, throwing Walker’s wallet onto a nearby metal table. Walker glanced at him and said nothing. “What year were you born?” 

“1981,” Walker said, figuring he could answer the easy ones before he had to start gritting his teeth. The man laughed, a fake, empty sound that echoed of power and dissatisfaction with its reality. Walker narrowed his eyes. That wasn’t supposed to be funny.

“Try again,” the second man said, this time, taking a threatening step forward. Walker eyed him warily, then the other man, before repeating the year. Steel toes kicked towards his head, and he dodged by a hair, curling into a protective ball on the floor. 

“Jaeger,” the other man admonished without conviction. Jaeger didn’t even look at him, staring at Walker as if to pull him apart without moving an inch. 

“Try. Again.”

Walker didn’t say anything this time, just let the silence speak for him. He wasn’t going to change his answer, because he didn’t know why it was such a problem. Were they very far in the past, or in the future? He had assumed equal time points, but he knew fuck all about portals and the fabric of spacetime. For all he knew, these bastards rode dinosaurs.

So he waited, for the next question, for the violence to start. He counted every finger and toe and wished them all the best, blessed his eyes and prayed for the integrity of his limbs and prosthetic. He wasn’t going to make it out of this in one piece, but he wanted to minimize the pieces they took. 

It started with the clatter of chains. 

*******

Barnes was beside himself. The dash back to the group had been a blur, his mind seeing nothing but Lamar’s back and the image of Walker being dragged away. He had done nothing to help, had just stood there, dumb, and watched his man get taken by a bunch of Nazis.  _ Nazis _ . He still wasn’t over that.

When they arrived at the bar, the group’s cheers had cut short as Barnes was the last one through the door. Lee glanced past him in case Walker had been lagging behind, but when the doorway remained empty, the mood in the room dropped. Glad to have food, but guilty about knowing the cost, the group had proceeded to tiptoe around Barnes, who didn’t mind the avoidance. He couldn’t stand much in the way of conversation at the moment, instead staring blankly out the filthy, cracked window at the desolate street below. He had one job in this whole damned plane of existence, and he had already failed to keep Walker safe. What got him most was that no one knew, except him. No one knew how important Walker was, how much he meant, at least no one in this world. Back home, well, he wasn’t sure what they were thinking at the moment. 

No, no one understood, so he sat and contemplated nothing, thought about the new void that had formed in his life, through his own inaction. He had already seen Walker dead once, he wasn’t sure he could handle that again. If he ever saw him again. 

The tears came from a place of pure exhaustion, tired with his situation and tired of being tired. He wanted Walker back, safe and by his side, and he had no idea how to go about accomplishing that. Until it hit him, as if Natasha were smacking him upside the head from a universe away. He stood up suddenly and the room went silent. Eight pairs of eyes fastened on him as he continued staring out the window.

“I’m the fucking Winter Solider,” he said through the despair threatening to cripple him. “I can find one perfect sonofabitch in a herd of Nazis. This is not the hardest thing I’ve ever done.”

The pep talk fell on confused ears, and when he turned to face the room, he received several baffled looks and an undercurrent of tentative amusement.

“You feeling better, son?” Lee asked, arms crossed and head tilted. 

“No,” Barnes answered honestly, “But at least I know what to do.”

“Close enough,” Zach said, reaching out and clapping him on the shoulder. 

“Where do they go?” Barnes asked, gesturing towards the food drop off site. The group eyed each other uneasily.

“There’s a prison camp about 50 miles from the city,” Lamar said. “Old army base. It’s the closest they were willing to get to the fallout.” 

“Is that the only place they would’ve taken him?” Barnes asked, and Lamar hesitated, before saying, “If they want him alive, yeah.” 

Barnes’ stomach was going to tie itself in knots if it kept rolling like this. He had to say the words though. “Where would he be if they didn’t?”

*******

They didn’t even try to hide it. The pit was well covered, sure, but that was to keep out the rodents and roving packs of dogs. It was as obvious as a mass grave could be, though, and spanned as far as Barnes could see. Granted, his field of vision was broken up by scraggly trees and hills, but no grave should be anywhere close to big enough that topography affects viewing its entirety. He had no idea where to start.

He looked for fresher marks on the ground, for boot prints or dirt out of place, but saw nothing to suggest this area had been disturbed in the past day. This gave him hope, but he was careful in handling it. He returned to standing, brushing dirt off his fingertips. 

He had to go on.


	6. Seeking

They asked him questions. He answered wrong. They stripped the skin from his back and poured vinegar on the wounds. They asked again and he groaned. They broke the fingers of his left hand and twisted the joints. They asked and he whimpered. They crushed his knee in a vice. They asked and he stared at the floor, panting softly, eyes running a steady stream. They hit him until he passed out.

*******   
  


Barnes walked day and night, not feeling the ache in his legs he was so focused on his goal. How he would achieve that goal once he made it to the prison, he wasn’t quite sure. He had no idea the technology these bastards had, what kind of barriers and guards he’d be dealing with. All he knew was that he needed Walker back. 

If he wasn’t in such a desperate situation, he’d be able to enjoy the scenery. Once outside the city, the beauty of New York started to peek out from under the nuclear wasteland. As he got further and further away, the trees gained leaves, the grass turned green, and there were birds and squirrels perched on branches and old telephone lines. He passed several abandoned houses and stores, windows shattered or boarded up. He wondered where their owners had gone, if they had fled or died. He hoped they had fought their overlords, hoped that ever single American citizen had risen against the Nazi tyranny, but the sick feeling he got at the thought told him that was unlikely. Many would have eagerly embraced the end of the war, regardless of the outcome, at least those who fit the Nazis’ criteria for a good citizen. God help you if your skin was darker than snow, loved someone of the same sex, didn’t match up with your birth sex, or held any beliefs that weren’t a Christianity that lacked the love. There were special places for those people, and Barnes wasn’t looking forward to finding out what this one was like.

*******

B.J. Blazkowicz was damn sick of his people getting taken from him. Grace had been on a milk run, just gathering intel on a new Nazi operation in New Jersey, when she’d crossed a patrol that wasn’t supposed to be there. Luckily, it looked like she’d survived, since his survey of the ground did not yield any obvious bloodstains or shallow graves. He kicked a rock in frustration, sending it skittering across the cracked pavement. Anya placed a hand on his shoulder.

“She’ll be okay,” she comforted, not believing it herself as she said it. 

“I guess it’s time to liberate that prison,” Blazkowicz said with hints of both reluctance and relish. He had wanted to wait until they had full plans together before burning that death camp to the ground, but he guessed there was no time like the present. Not that he minded the opportunity to hit back, just that he preferred the prepared approach. You tend to lose fewer people that way.

He shouldered his rifle and gestured for the others to follow him back to the Jeep. “No sense in standing around,” he said, and Fergus snorted.

“Now when do we ever get a chance to do that?”

They started making plans on sheets of old newspapers.

*******

Thor’s arrival triggered a massive thunderstorm, for which he sincerely apologized for. With him were the astrophysicist Jane and her assistant Darcy. Thor introduced them with much enthusiasm, the pride in his voice making Jane blush as he regaled the Avengers with tales of her intellectual exploits. Most of it went over Steve’s head, though Tony seemed quite impressed. 

“Bruce is going to love you,” Tony said to Jane when Thor had finished.

“Bruce Banner?” she asked, and her eyes lit up when Tony nodded. “I’ve always wanted to get a chance to talk with him about his theories on….”She waved a hand. “Anyway, I hear you have a problem with spacetime. How can I help?”

“Right this way!” Tony exclaimed, herding the three of them towards his laboratory and leaving the rest of them to glance between each other in mild bewilderment.

“Not sure of most of what she said,” Sam admitted, and the others agreed vehemently. But the thin veneer of camaraderie wore away after the new arrivals were whisked away, leaving behind the sense of lacking.

“I’m gonna…” Clint said, waving his hand vaguely and shuffling towards the door. Natasha followed without an excuse, leaving Sam and Steve with Wanda, who harbored the same mournful look she’d worn since the portal had closed. Steve cared for her deeply, but her sadness only amplified his, and he couldn’t stand being in her presence for too long before the grief began to swallow him. He knew (hoped)((prayed)) they were alive, but all he could see was their absence from the training room, the common area, the building and the world. Losing Bucky again,  _ again, _ was almost more than he could bear, and he’d grown to like Walker over the past year. You get used to a person in your space so often, and feel it when they’re suddenly not there anymore. 

It was that, the feeling of loss, that drove him to sleeplessness and despair. Like a vital organ had been gripped on the inside and pulled to the outside. This feeling has haunted the time after he had first awoken in this century, that sense of having abandoned all he’d known and loved. That feeling had faded when he’d made friends, found Bucky again, built a family in this Tower. But that portal had ripped it away from him, sent him spiraling into the abyss he had thought he’d left behind. He was scrambling at the sides of the hole as he fell, but only Sam seemed to be able to hear him, but not even his arms were long enough to haul him out. 

Steve peeked over at Sam, who was staring blankly out of the window, face solemn. 

“I think we should go get coffee,” he suggested, causing Sam to blink at him in surprise.

“You want to leave the Tower?” Sam clarified, and Steve nodded. Sam gave him a small smile.

“I think that’d be nice.”

_ Time to live through the pain.  _


End file.
